City of Blood
by Elaina Fairchild
Summary: The shadowhunters (and warlock) we know and love are moving on with their lives. Simon has ascended, Clary finally gets a parabatai, and Alec and Magnus are hearing wedding bells. But when an unexpected enemy begins to rise from the ashes of the war they're still trying to forget, will they be able to hang on to their well deserved happiness? (Set after City of Heavenly Fire)
1. Parabatai

Clary squealed and jumped into Simon's arms. He stepped back to brace himself and caught her flawlessly. He was momentarily shocked by his newfound strength and grace; he supposed it would take some getting used to. Clary hugged him tightly for a few seconds before she leaned back to look at him, a grin stretching her face. Simon couldn't help but grin back.

"Hands off the girlfriend, mundane."

Clary rolled her eyes. _Same old Jace. _She turned her head and saw that he was smiling at them.

"You know, you can't really call me that anymore," Simon pointed out.

"Sure I can. I just did. And you're still holding her, by the way."

Jace's grin seemed easy, but a slight tic in his jaw let her know that it was probably time to extract herself from Simon. She jumped down from Simon's hold and gave Jace a reassuring peck on the cheek. She felt like her face was going to crack, she was smiling so hard, but she just couldn't make herself stop. This day had been the happiest day of her life.

"I can't believe it. I never thought I'd ever get to have a _parabatai _of my own!" Clary said with a slightly incredulous laugh.

"How does it feel?" Jace asked with a knowing grin.

"Strange, but in a good way. Kind of like I have an extra arm or something; I know Simon's there, but it's like he's an extension of myself, not another person."

Simon poked Clary's arm, hard. She raised an eyebrow at him as he did it again.

"What are you doing, Simon?"

"I wanted to see if I would feel it," he replied, poking her for a third time. Clary smacked his hand away. She wasn't sure if the residual sting on the back of her hand was from smacking Simon's, or from Simon himself.

"As amusing as all of this is to watch, I would like to kiss my girlfriend now, if you don't mind," Jace said suddenly, with a pointed look at Simon that clearly said _get lost. _

Simon wandered over to Isabelle, who was talking to Alec and Magnus, and Clary turned her full attention to Jace. He was watching her with a small, amused smile.

"Are you happy?" Jace asked, running his hands down her arms.

"Can't you tell? I don't think I've stopped smiling since we finished the ceremony."

"You haven't," Jace confirmed, his own grin widening. He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that went from chaste to torrid in five seconds flat. Clary pulled away, a bit breathless. Jace pouted, and she slapped his arm playfully.

"Stop that, right now. We are in a public place," she scolded half-heartedly.

"So let's go someplace less public," he said with a smirk. She resisted the urge to close her eyes, refusing to give in to his charms.

"No," Clary replied firmly, mostly to herself. "We're supposed to be spending time with friends and family right now. Rejoicing in the happy times, and all that. The Clave just added a new member, and I just got a _parabatai._"

"Mmm," he hummed, burying his nose in the side of her neck. "There are a lot of things we're supposed to do. Doesn't mean we have to do them."

She pushed him gently away. "That's exactly what it means. Now come on, I want to go see Magnus. It's been a while."

Jace groaned, but he allowed her to lead him by the hand to where Alec, Magnus, Simon, and Izzy were standing together. They caught the tail end of the conversation as they approached.

"-get married?" Isabelle was saying. Alec looked startled when Jace and Clary appeared, but his surprise quickly turned into relief.

"Hi!" Alec said loudly, interrupting Isabelle and turning a wide-eyed and slightly pleading look on Jace.

"Who's getting married?" Jace asked. Clary chuckled and shook her head at Jace's blatant disregard for his _parabatai's _discomfort. Isabelle smirked triumphantly.

"Alec and Magnus, apparently," Simon replied with mild confusion.

"It's going to be beautiful. I've already started planning, but you can help too, of course, Clary. I'm thinking a spring wedding. You know how much Magnus loves color," Isabelle said all of this very quickly, with an ever-widening grin. Clary laughed again. Magnus smirked and rolled his gold-green eyes. Alec buried his ever-reddening face in Magnus' shoulder.

"Isabelle, stop tormenting your brother," he said, somewhat exasperatedly. Isabelle stuck out her bottom lip in a mock pout.

"But it's so much fun!" she whined.

"Yes, well, you're not the one who has to deal with the meltdown afterward."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Honestly Alec, after everything we've all been through, you're seriously going to tell me you're afraid of commitment?"

Alec's only response was an embarrassed groan as he dug his face further into Magnus' shoulder and threw his arm around Magnus' neck to hide what little of his face was left exposed. Magnus chuckled and patted his hair.

"The day we get married is the day he starts letting me pick out his clothes," the warlock joked. Alec looked up and turned a glare on Simon and Isabelle.

"What about you two, hmm? When are you going to get married?" he asked defensively. The couple shifted awkwardly.

"Well," Isabelle said slowly. "We haven't really talked much about marriage. I mean, we're only seventeen."

"We did agree that I would take her name, though. Instead of the other way around, you know," Simon added helpfully.

"Regretting your decision to be Simon Lightwalker already, are you?" Jace asked with a smirk.

"No, I just thought-"

"Come on," Clary cut him off, grabbing Simon's hand. She had no desire to listen to another argument between them. She glanced at Jace, who rolled his eyes and gave a slight nod. "Let's go see what we can do."

Clary and Simon had spent months training together, and had fallen into an easy rhythm together long before they became _parabatai. _They were a perfect team, capable of anticipating all of each other's moves. The ease with which they worked together was only rivaled by the way they fought with their respective significant others. Now that they were _parabatai, _that ease would only be heightened.

Clary was most excited, however, to see how runes affected them. She knew that when they marked each other it would be more powerful than marking herself or someone else, and she knew there were certain runes that only they could use, because they were _parabatai. _She couldn't wait to try them all out. She felt her fingers twitch the way they did when she was yearning for her sketchbook, and wasn't all that surprised to realize that the gesture had translated over into her yearning to draw marks, too.

Clary and Simon walked hand in hand to the training room of the Institute. Once inside, she led him over to a spot in the middle of the room and they sat down opposite each other on the hard wood floor.

"Give me your right hand," Clary instructed, holding out her left. Simon placed his hand in hers and she gripped it gently, whipping her stele out of her back pocket and setting it to his skin. The Clave had agreed that she could be the one to give Simon his first mark after the _parabatai_ rune, seeing as runes were kind of her thing (and seeing as she had refused to let it happen any other way). He didn't even flinch as she drew the Voyance rune, like an open eye, on the back of his hand. She took it as proof of his innate shadowhunter nature. When she was finished, she released his hand, and he gazed at it in wonder, as if he had never seen it before.

"Eric would be so jealous right now," he said with a grin. Clary stood and pulled him up to stand beside her. When he had reached his feet, Clary turned, releasing his hand, and suddenly pulled out a small sword, seemingly from thin air. Simon instantly recognized it as Heosphoros. She crooked her finger at him and smirked as she saw a tiny, fleeting flicker of fear play across his face. Despite the fact that she was a girl, and a lot smaller than him, she had been training for a lot longer; Simon knew with great certainty that Clary could crush him if she so desired. She watched with smug satisfaction as he swallowed nervously. Despite all their training, they had only ever fought at each other's side, against instructors or against Jace and Alec.

"Choose your weapon, Lightwalker," she challenged. Simon grinned and plucked a sword off the wall.

"Bring it on, Fairchild."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! If you'd like to continue reading, please review! I will not be posting the next chapter until I get five reviews, so please, let me know what you think! What did you like? What did you hate? How can I improve? Only you can answer these questions!**


	2. Gold for a Bride

Alec leaned his head on Magnus' shoulder as they walked in comfortable silence back to the apartment in Brooklyn. Alec smiled to himself. It was _their _apartment now, seeing as he had been living in it for so long. He had done his best to tiptoe around the subject, though; calling it "the apartment" rather than "our apartment" or "your apartment." It was silly, but he knew he would feel awkward referring to it as their home together until Magnus acknowledged it first.

"What are you thinking about?" Magnus asked, and Alec tensed in surprise at the sudden break in silence. "You seem very far away."

Alec smiled up at him and brushed Magnus' cheek with his thumb. "I'm right here."

Magnus couldn't contain his laughter. "Wow. I think that's the cheesiest thing I have ever heard you say." Alec laughed with him and they stumbled into the apartment.

The couple made their way to their bedroom, where Alec, still chuckling, sat down on the edge of his side of the bed and began unlacing his boots. Magnus crawled up onto his own side of the bed and watched Alec thoughtfully for a few moments.

"Seriously, babe. What's up?" he asked. Alec turned his head to look at Magnus. The warlock was lying on his stomach, still fully dressed, with his feet kicking in the air, the way Alec had seen Isabelle lying when she talked on the phone with Simon. Alec cocked an eyebrow.

"Babe? Seriously?" Alec asked with a smirk.

"What? You don't like it?" Magnus replied with false innocence, already knowing the answer.

"I'm not really a 'babe' kind of guy, _hun." _Magnus laughed at his pointed use of the pet name.

"Maybe not, but you are a babe," he replied with a suggestive grin. Alec rolled his eyes and returned to the arduous task of removing his heavy black boots.

"Alexander." Alec turned again, noting the warlock's serious tone. "Talk to me. What's on your mind?"

"Us," Alec replied slowly, with a vague sense of dread beginning to unfurl in the pit of his stomach. Something told him there was a good chance he was going to regret opening this can of worms. Now it was Magnus' turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Us? What about us?"

"Our present. Our future." Magnus stared at him for a few moments, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as though Alec were a particularly complicated puzzle he was determined to solve.

"Explain."

"What is this place to you?" Alec asked quickly, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of surprise on Magnus' face.

"What do you mean?"

"The apartment. What is it to you?"

"It's home. It has been for a long time. You know that."

Alec sighed. _Just go for it. _"And... what is it to me?"

Magnus eyebrows shot up into his hair, which hung loose in his face, rather than spiked as it usually was. "That's for you to decide. Though I was rather hoping that you thought of it as home too."

Alec let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and smiled. "I do."

Magnus smiled, trying not to laugh at Alec's choice of words. He imagined for a moment that Alec was saying those exact words in a different context, but he thought better of mentioning it to Alec, lest he scare the little shadowhunter away.

"Isn't it a bit late to be having this conversation? We've been living together for months. All your stuff is here." Alec coughed out a laugh and shook his head with a small smile.

"Yeah, well, we always seem to have these sorts of conversations long after the fact. It's pretty 'par for the course' for us."

"And whose fault do you think that is, hmm?" Magnus asked playfully.

"Shut up," Alec replied, poking him in the ribs and sticking out his tongue.

"If I did that, we'd never talk about anything," Magnus said, chuckling. Alec made a face and finished getting ready to go to sleep. They were silent as he crawled under the covers, dressed in only his boxers and a T-shirt (all solid black, of course). Alec lay down on his back, with his arms at his sides, like a soldier. He had just closed his eyes when Magnus spoke up.

"So was that really what was bothering you?" Magnus asked. Alec furrowed his brow, feeling Magnus' stare on his face as though it were a physical thing, but did not open his eyes. He wasn't sure how to answer. Magnus continued.

"Or were you, perhaps, thinking about our earlier conversation with Isabelle?"

At this, Alec's eyes flew open. He supposed that, subconsciously, he might have been thinking about what Izzy had said, and he also supposed that it would explain his sudden fear about where he and Magnus stood. He refused to acknowledge this however, on the basis that he hadn't been _consciously_ fretting over it. He couldn't very well control his subconscious mind, now could he?

"No. Of course not. I was just wondering if I could call the apartment 'home.' I didn't want to make things awkward by referring to it as home if you didn't want me to." Magnus shook his head.

"So you're telling me that this sudden need to define our relationship status has nothing to with the fact that your sister suggested that we get married?"

"Yes. And besides, what does me wanting to call the apartment 'home' have to do with the status of our relationship?" Magnus raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"I don't know. Something about the fact that you want to refer to the place where _we live together_ as 'home' seems to suggest to me that our relationship is pretty serious. Weird. I wonder why that is." Alec frowned.

"Well, either way, it had nothing to do with Izzy."

"Right," Magnus sighed and was quiet for a minute or two. "Well I'd like to talk about it, if you don't mind."

Alec stiffened. "Talk about what?" he asked quietly.

"You know exactly what," Magnus replied irritatedly, softening his tone when he felt Alec flinch. "What do you want out of this relationship? Is marriage even a possibility?"

_Yes, _Alec thought. _Definitely. _

"I don't know," he whispered.

"What, exactly, is it that you're afraid of? You can't honestly be worried about what the Clave will think? Not after everything else?"

"No," Alec snorted, "I really don't care what anyone else has to say about us anymore."

"Then what is it? Are you... keeping your options open? I can respect that. If you'd rather stay detached because you don't think you'll want to stick around once you're... older, I... can understand," Magnus sounded as though the words pained him.

"No!" Alec replied quickly, his eyes widening in shock. "Never. That isn't going to happen." He watched as Magnus' features filled with obvious relief.

"Please tell me why, then," he asked pleadingly.

"I'm afraid," Alec started, swallowing when his voice shook. "I'm afraid you'll get bored with me."

It was Magnus' turn to look shocked. "Alec, how could you think-"

"Magnus," he said, placing a hand gently on the warlock's face. He smiled sadly. "You've lived a long time. You're always moving, always doing something new and exciting. You're the definition of a 'free spirit.' I worry that if I keep you tied down, you'll grow bored, maybe even resentful. And I couldn't stand that."

Magnus stared at Alec as though he had sprouted two extra heads, his jaw hanging open in shock. "Alexander Gideon Lightwood. I can't believe that you could _possibly_\- that you could even _imagine_ that I could-" Magnus spluttered as he came to a sitting position. The magnificent Magnus Bane was at a loss for words. "You are not some... some television show or strange bug I found on the sidewalk, Alexander. As if I could grow bored with you. Please!" the warlock shook his head incredulously.

"Am I wrong, though? Is it not true that you get bored easily?"

"You're right, I do love adventure and excitement. I do get bored staying in one place. But I get even more bored with being alone. I'm not going to leave you just because I like to travel, Alec. Honestly, of all things."

"Then what do you propose? What am I supposed to do when you decide you're done here?"

"Simple; you'll just have to come with me," Magnus replied easily.

"And you're not worried that I'm going to tie you down? Become a hindrance?"

"Nonsense. I'd be more bored without you. Not to mention terribly sad. Of course, I'd hate to take you away from your family. Are you sure you'd want to come with me?"

"I'd go anywhere with you," Alec blurted and blushed a deep red. Magnus smiled and ran a hand through the shadowhunter's hair.

"Then it's settled," Magnus said with finality, and he lay back down to go to sleep. "Besides, I quite like New York. I don't think you'll have to worry about me leaving for a long time."

…

Magnus rolled over, eyes closed, to face his lover. His internal clock, as well as the sun warming his face from where it streamed through the window, informed him that it was mid- to late-morning. He slowly opened his cat-like green eyes and found himself staring into blue ones, the precise color of the ocean at midnight. He smiled and opened his mouth to comment on their beauty for what probably would have been the hundredth time, when a flash of silver in his peripheral vision distracted him.

Lying near the top of his pillow, looking as though it had been placed with great care, was a silver ring, etched with a pattern of flames. Magnus knew without asking that it was the Lightwood family ring. He looked back at his boyfriend curiously, who had turned slightly pink. A smile began to creep onto Magnus' lips.

"I know it won't work exactly the same way as it would for most shadowhunters, since you're a warlock and all, but I thought, at the very least, that I could still give you my ring," Alec said this all very quickly and quietly, his gaze fixed upon a seemingly random spot on the wall. Magnus grinned even wider.

"What won't work the same?" Magnus asked with mock innocence. Alec's eyes finally found Magnus' again and widened almost comically as red bloomed in his cheeks like roses.

"You know what I mean, Magnus."

"And what is that?"

"I-, I mean, will you- um, huh?" Alec spluttered in confusion. He had been sure that Magnus would know what he was asking him.

"Spit it out, little shadowhunter. I haven't got all day, you know."

Alec noted the wicked gleam in Magnus' eyes and quickly narrowed his own in suspicion. He playfully smacked Magnus' arm.

"Cut that out. You know exactly what I'm trying to ask you. You just want to watch me squirm."

"I do love making you squirm," Magnus said, wiggling his eyebrows. "But I really don't know what it is that you're trying to say. I'm simply _proposing _that you ask your question properly."

Alec huffed in mild irritation and took a deep, settling breath.

"Magnus, will you marry me?" he asked, his tone only slightly mocking.

"Hmm," he hummed, as though he was deep in thought. "You know, you didn't say the magic word."

"There's a magic word?" Alec asked, surprised. He had never heard of such a thing.

"Yep."

"And that magic word is?" Alec inquired, somewhat impatiently. Magnus smirked and pantomimed zipping his lips.

"Not telling."

"Why not?" Alec practically whined.

"Honestly dear, you should have known it already. How am I supposed to take your proposal seriously if you don't know the magic word? Anyway, I'm afraid you'll have to figure it out on your own." Magnus began throwing on items of clothing in a pattern that seemed random to Alec, but he knew when it was over, Magnus would be wearing something outlandishly fashionable, most likely with lots of glitter.

"Where are you going?" Alec wondered. He hadn't known that Magnus had plans for the day.

"Oh, you know, here and there. Places to see, people to meet. I'm a very busy warlock, Alec," he answered vaguely, and Alec watched with his usual fascination as Magnus ran a hand through his hair, using magic to produce the spiked hairstyle he was so well known for.

"Yeah, of course," Alec mumbled. In truth, he was more concerned about solving the mystery of the 'magic word' than he was about where Magnus might have been going. "All right, well, see you tonight then?"

"Absolutely," Magnus replied with a smile, and leaned down to give Alec a chaste peck on the lips before vacating the apartment. Alec cradled his head in his hands.

"What on earth am I going to do?"

* * *

**Hello again! I'm back, much sooner than I expected, but I got two lovely reviews and some excellent feedback, and I'm honestly just too excited to wait. So, obviously this chapter focuses on Malec. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about my portrayal of Alec. Sorry if he's a bit OOC, especially in the last half; honestly I just wanted an opportunity to play with Magnus a bit more. If you have any advice as to how I might write Alec a bit better, it would be much appreciated. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	3. The Magic Word

Jace, Clary, and Simon spent all morning in the training room. Jace was trying (for the fourth time) to show Simon how to properly throw a dagger; Clary was curled up in the corner of the room, idly drawing sketches of Simon and Jace, and occasionally joining in their conversation, to pass the time. She had watched them go down this road together three times already, and had grown bored with it after the first. She had suggested that Jace let her teach Simon instead, but Jace always insisted that he was the expert; he had taught Clary, and he was damn well going to teach Simon, too.

Simon was preparing to fail at throwing another dagger when Alec burst into the room.

"There you are! I've been looking for you for _ages_. I need your help," Alec said hurriedly.

"What's wrong?" Jace asked, already starting to switch into defense mode.

"I need to know the magic word."

"The what?" Jace relaxed, tilting his head and smiling a curious smile. He had a feeling he knew where this was going; he'd had to learn what Clary meant by 'the magic word' a long time ago.

"The magic word. I asked Magnus to marry me this morning, but he told me I had to say the magic word. He won't give me an answer unless I say it," Alec replied, frustration clear in his tone.

"Hold on, _you asked Magnus to marry you?" _Simon interrupted.

"Yes, keep up, Simon," Alec snapped.

"After the fit you pitched yesterday, I thought for sure you two were just going to leave it at 'boyfriends,'" he continued incredulously.

"I did not pitch a- oh, never mind that. What's the magic word?"

Clary bit down on the side of her hand to muffle her laughter. Alec snapped his attention to her. He narrowed his eyes and frowned.

"You know what it is, don't you Clary?" She removed her hand from her mouth and grinned.

"You won't like it when I tell you."

"I don't care. Just tell me what it is. _Please," _he pleaded impatiently.

"_Please," _she echoed, laughing.

"Don't mock me," Alec grumbled defensively.

"No, the magic word is _please," _Clary explained.

"Oh," Alec said. Clary witnessed a range of emotions playing on his face before they settled somewhere between irritation and amusement. He shook his head and turned to leave, announcing, "Excuse me, I have to go kill my boyfriend now."

"Well," Clary said, once Alec had gone. "That was entertaining. Probably the highlight of my day."

"Come on, Simon," Jace commanded, ignoring Clary with a shake of his head. "Let's try this again."

…

Drusilla Rose Parker was a typical 17-year-old girl. She had a loving family, a nice home, and two awesome best friends. She loved reading, writing, and listening to music. Life was pretty good. Except for one thing: she had always been able to see things other people couldn't.

She was walking home after a boring and largely uneventful day at school when she happened by a strange building that caught her eye. To anyone else, it would have appeared to simply be an old, abandoned house. To Drusilla it seemed like much more. She couldn't explain it, but there was something about the house that seemed different to her; it had a dark, slightly menacing aura to it. Naturally, she decided to investigate.

The front door of the house gaped open, the door half-torn from the hinges. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but as she entered, she realized that though it had once been a rather large house, it had been divided to serve as individual apartments before it had been destroyed. Destroyed was really the only appropriate word to use for the state of the place. There were strange scorch marks and scratches on the walls, and broken glass littered the floor. She assumed it was from the broken skylight overhead, through which sunlight beamed- the only bright spot in the shadowed foyer.

The door to the downstairs apartment was slightly ajar. Drusilla cautiously approached the door and was about to push it open when she hesitated. She was at war with herself. Her natural curiosity told her to walk into the apartment with her head held high, but a small voice in the back of her head told her _turn back, go home, don't go through that door._

She pushed the door open.

The apartment was empty, save for an old, battered, pink armchair, which stood facing away from her. Every surface in the room had a thick layer of dust on it, and the air was filled with a scent like rotten eggs and dried blood. Drusilla gagged and coughed with every breath. The armchair creaked and Drusilla froze, sudden, inexplicable fear paralysing her and making her blood run like ice water through her veins.

"Come closer child," said a sickeningly sweet, feminine voice. It came from the armchair. "Don't be shy."

Drusilla stepped toward the chair against her own volition, as if there were some outside force driving her to do as the woman said. She walked around to the other side of the armchair and bit back a scream.

"Beautiful, don't you think? I am only a shadow of my former glory. The after-image," the woman mused bitterly. The occupant of the chair could only be described as a mummy. Her skin was dark, dried out, and stretched taut over her bones. Her hair was mostly gone, with only a few blond strands still clinging to her skull. Drusilla was speechless.

"I am too weak," the woman continued. "I have been on this plane for too long. But I cannot leave. Not without getting my retribution."

"Retribution?" Drusilla croaked.

"Yes. Some Nephilim brats recently saw fit to kill my only son," she spat. "They will pay for what they've done. And you're going to help me with that, dear."

"I am?" Drusilla whispered, tears in her eyes. She began to back away slowly, wishing she had listened to the voice in her head that had told her to turn back.

_It's too late, _the voice whispered._ There's no turning back now._

A skeletal hand shot out, quick as a striking snake, and the mummy-woman grabbed hold of Drusilla by the collar as she stood from the chair.

"Oh yes," the woman snarled, and Drusilla thought fleetingly that she could have gone her whole life without seeing a mummy grin. "Yes, you are."

* * *

**Ooh, the plot thickens! Or starts to, anyway.**

**To anyone wondering why I chose the name 'Lightwalker' for Simon: I decided to pick a name from the Codex, which has you choose two words and put them together. I wanted it to be something original, and something that would relate to Simon specifically. I chose Lightwalker in reference to the term 'Daylighter.' I debated about which name to use, because I could have just as easily called him Simon Daylighter, but that seemed too obvious. I thought Lightwalker would be the perfect way to show that Simon is changing, but he still remembers his past. As for why he wants to take Izzy's name if/when they get married, that's purely for Isabelle's sake. She's always been a Lightwood and she's proud of it; Simon, being the sweetie that he is, would never dream of taking that away from her.**

**Also, I think I'm probably going to get questions as to why our not-so-mysterious (I hope), mystery demon-woman is mummified, so I'll just address that now. **

**As of CoLS, we know that she's alive, but she's been weakened by her accident with Simon and the whip and all that. According to the Shadowhunter's wiki, even the strongest demon will start to wither and fade and eventually return to the Void if they remain in our dimension for too long. So, I propose this: it's been a few months, so she's strong enough to return to our dimension for a longer period of time, but not for as long as she used to be able to. She has already withered, but she's determined and motivated by a strong desire for revenge. She's basically been hanging on to our dimension by a thread and biding her time until she was able to find a new, stronger form. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**(P.S.: Anyone recognize the building? I thought it would be a poetic setting, seeing as it's sort of where everything began.)**


	4. Newcomer

Simon sat down on the bed and looked around the room. There were posters and pictures and little pouches filled with various sets of dice scattered here and there. It still didn't quite feel like it was his room yet. He wondered if and when that would change.

He had been slowly moving all of his possessions into the Institute since he first began training. Magnus had helped him 'convince' his friends and family that he was at boarding school. Clary had told him that it would be easier this way, but he was still on the fence about it; he missed his friends and his mom, and he missed his sister especially, but he knew that living at the Institute meant that he would always be 'on call' for emergencies.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by a gentle tapping on the door.

"Come in," he called. The door opened and shut in quick succession as Isabelle slipped inside.

"Hi," she said, smiling as she always did when she saw all of the 'nerd stuff' he kept in his room.

"Hey, Izzy. What's up?"

"Nothing," she replied with a shrug. "I just felt like coming to see you."

"You just saw me, like, five minutes ago," Simon countered.

"Yeah, well... you spent all morning with Jace and Clary," Isabelle observed off-handedly.

"He was trying to show me how to throw a dagger again."

"Any luck?" Isabelle inquired with a smirk, already guessing the answer was 'no.'

"None at all," he said, confirming Isabelle's suspicions. She laughed.

"You need a better teacher."

"A better teacher than Jace the Expert? I've never heard of such a thing!" he exclaimed in mock surprise.

"Jace may be the expert on throwing daggers, but he's not exactly renowned for his listening skills. Listening is an important part of teaching, you know," she replied matter-of-factly.

"And how do you know so much about teaching, _Ms. Lightwood_?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I guess I used to think that if I hadn't been born a shadowhunter, I might've been a teacher."

"You? A teacher?" Simon asked incredulously. He shook his head. "No way. I'm not buying it."

"Shut up," Isabelle laughed, smacking his arm playfully. "I'd be a great teacher, and you know it."

"Nope. I just don't see it," he teased. He was still sitting on the end of his bed, and Isabelle took advantage of this by climbing onto his lap, facing him. He sobered immediately.

"That's just because I'm such an excellent shadowhunter," she whispered, her nose grazing his ear. He swallowed anxiously and could feel her silent laughter vibrating against him.

"W-what are you doing, Izzy?" he stammered, noting that his voice had gone up an octave.

"Just getting comfortable. I thought I might stay here for awhile," she answered with a grin.

"Oh. Alright then," he gasped as she pushed him back to lean against his headboard. She was still straddling him, and it was very distracting.

"You don't mind, do you Simon? If I stay for a bit?" she teased, running her hands over his chest.

"Nope," he practically squeaked, and Isabelle laughed again. _Once a nerd, always a nerd, _she thought as she replied.

"Good."

…

Isabelle groaned and rolled over, burying her face into her pillow in an attempt to drown out the noise that had woken her. She had returned to her own room sometime in the middle of the night and she was not in the mood to deal with anyone. The noise sounded again. It was the Institute's doorbell.

"Oh by the Angel! Who the hell could be knocking on our door at six o' clock in the morning?" she fumed. Just then, her door opened and Jace appeared, with Simon and Clary lingering behind him.

"Come on," Jace said, gesturing for her to get up. "Someone's here."

"You don't say," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She rolled out of bed, grumbling something about 'stupid Downworlders and their stupid problems.'

They all made their way down to the main entrance, Clary and Simon hanging back and pondering quietly over who might be at the door. Jace was the first to reach it, and their curiosity quickly changed to surprise as he opened the door, revealing a girl about their age.

She had long, blond hair that fell like a sheet of platinum to her waist. Her eyes were wide and mossy green, with a ring of tawny hazel around the pupil . She was breathing hard as if she had just run a marathon. Her clothes were torn and and stained with dirt and blood. They all watched with a mixture of surprise, fascination, and mild confusion as she collapsed on the step, unconscious. Clary was the first to step toward the girl. Jace put out a hand to caution her, but she ignored him, leaning down to examine their sleeping visitor.

"I wonder who she is," Clary mused as she glanced over the girl, trying to assess the severity of her wounds. "Come on, help me bring her in."

"Wait a minute, we can't just bring her in here. We don't know who she is. We don't even know _what _she is," Jace argued.

"She needs help. We can give it to her," Clary insisted.

"But we can't just bring strangers into the Institute, Clary."

"Why not? You did it for me," she replied pointedly.

"Clary, we don't know what she is. What if we try to help her and we only make it worse?" Isabelle reasoned.

"We still have to try," she stated firmly. They quickly realized it would be pointless to argue with Clary on the matter.

"Fine," Jace said, lifting the girl easily and hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman carry. "Iz, get the door."

…

Clary could tell that whatever had happened, it had taken quite a toll on the girl. She had volunteered to be the one to get the mystery-girl cleaned up, using what little knowledge she had of mundane medicine to dress her wounds. It had mostly been scratches and scrapes, presumably because she had tripped a few times while running, but there had been one curious wound on her chest, just over her heart. It was a jagged cut, much deeper than the rest, and it looked like it had been made with some sort of knife.

The girl was roughly the same size as Clary, so Clary had decided to lend her some of her clothes. Her old clothes had been ruined, and Jace had decided to burn them, much to Clary's begrudging amusement.

It was a few hours before the girl finally woke up. Clary watched as she slowly blinked open her eyes, coughing and looking around in confusion.

"Hi," Clary spoke softly, and the girl's gaze quickly focused on her. "My name is Clary. What's yours?"

The girl looked confused for a moment before she tried to speak, her voice cracking. Clary helped her sit up in the infirmary bed before handing her a glass of water she had placed on the nightstand earlier. The girl took a drink before speaking.

"Drusilla. My name's Drusilla, but my friends call me Dru," she answered after a minute or two. Clary smiled reassuringly.

"Do you know where you are, Dru?" she asked gently.

"Not really. I was running away from... something. I can't remember. I saw this place and thought you might be able to help. I'm not sure why, but I guess I was right," the girl said slowly, looking confused.

"You're in the Institute," Clary explained. The girl frowned.

"I'm sorry, what's an institute?" It was Clary's turn to frown.

"You really don't know where you are?"

"No. Should I?"

"Well, that depends, I suppose."

"On what?"

"On what you are."

"Excuse me?" the girl asked, somewhat defensively.

"Look, there's no sensitive way to put this. I need to know what sort of Downworlder you are."

"Downworlder?" she echoed. Clary was growing increasingly worried at the confused look on Drusilla's face.

"Yes, you know; warlock, werewolf, faerie? You obviously can't be a vampire or you wouldn't be here."

"How about _human_? Is that an option?" the girl asked, looking dazed. Clary worried for a moment that she might faint.

"Well... not usually, but I guess... I don't know," she replied slowly, thinking, _It wasn't an option for me._

"I doubt you're completely human," Jace called from the doorway. Both girls started in surprise. He hadn't been standing there a few moments before. He watched Drusilla thoughtfully as he continued. "They say some mundanes are just naturally born with the Sight, but I doubt that's actually true. There's got to be some magical blood in there somewhere."

The girl looked uncomfortable for a moment, sparking Clary's curiosity.

"Have you always been able to see things? Things you couldn't explain?"

Drusilla nodded hesitantly. "I've never told anyone. I was afraid they'd think I was crazy or something."

"Well, the good news is that it doesn't make you crazy," Jace reported casually. "The bad news is that we're not sure _what_ it makes you."

"She might just be human, Jace," Clary noted with a shrug.

"Maybe," he answered, sounding dubious. "But until we know for sure she'll have to stay here."

"But what about my family? They have to have noticed by now that I'm gone," Drusilla protested.

"We'll figure something out. In the meantime: Clary, I need you in the library."

Clary glanced at Drusilla apologetically.

"I've left some clothes for you," Clary said, gesturing to a small stack at the foot of the bed. "We'll find a way to get you some more later. Oh, and don't wander too far; you might get lost."

Clary and Jace left the infirmary, and Drusilla quickly changed into the proffered T-shirt and jeans, wondering how on earth they could have left her on her own. She had just finished pulling on the borrowed shirt when a boy appeared in the infirmary's doorway, startling her.

"Come on," said the boy. "I'm Simon. I'll show you around."

* * *

**I'm trying to sneak in little scenes with each of the couples. For one thing, because I love them all equally (though for different reasons), and for another, because this way there's something to appeal to everyone. Good, yes? **

**Stick around. Things are about to get interesting.**


	5. Trust

"I don't trust her," Jace announced once he and Clary had entered the library.

"You don't even know her," Clary pointed out.

"She's suspicious," Jace said simply.

"You haven't even given her a chance to be suspicious!"

"Alright," Jace began, "let's say she's just a mundane with the Sight. How did she know to come here?"

"I don't know, Jace. The Institute is huge, though, and she _was_ being chased by something. She was desperate. The Institute was probably just the most important-looking building she could find."

"Yeah, that's another thing. She says she was being chased, but by what? I mean, judging by the state of her, it had to be something pretty scary, and yet she can't remember what it was?" Jace asked with a snort of disbelief.

"Maybe she blocked it out," Clary shrugged.

"That would be awfully convenient."

"Maybe she never saw what was chasing her."

"Maybe she wasn't being chased at all."

"You saw what she looked like when she arrived. She was all scraped up and out of breath. She collapsed from exhaustion right in front of you."

"That doesn't prove that she was being chased, it proves that she was running."

"You don't run like that unless you're being chased," Clary countered in exasperation. Jace could still be incredibly frustrating when he wanted to be.

"Look, I'm not saying we should throw her out, I'm just saying we need to be careful," Jace replied, and Clary was about to argue when Isabelle chimed in from behind them.

"Lover's quarrel?" she asked, examining her nails as she lounged in the doorway. Clary rolled her eyes.

"No," she said calmly. "We're fine."

"Well, either way, he's right. We need to be careful around that girl. What's her name, anyway?"

"Drusilla," Jace answered.

"What a perfectly sinister-sounding name," Izzy commented. Clary rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on! Having an evil-sounding name doesn't mean she's evil."

"No, but it certainly doesn't help her case," Jace declared, nodding at Isabelle in agreement. Clary watched the exchange with growing frustration.

"Fine," Clary sighed, throwing up her hands. "Just fine. You guys can judge her all you want. I can't exactly stop you. I'm going to go make sure she hasn't gotten lost or accidentally killed herself or something."

Clary stormed out of the library. Jace turned to Isabelle.

"You'll help me keep an eye on her, right?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied before she walked away, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts.

…

Simon had decided to take Drusilla on something of a 'grand tour' of the Institute. He showed her the music room, the weapons room, the training room; all the highlights, except for the library. Isabelle had warned him that it was probably better he didn't go in there. The last stop on the tour was a small room, empty except for a bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe.

"Well, this is where I leave you. You'll be sleeping here during your stay," Simon said, watching as Drusilla moved into the center of the room, looking around like she was lost.

"Hey," he said, gently touching her arm, and she flinched. For a moment, he thought he felt something strange when he touched her arm, but he couldn't determine what it was, and he brushed the thought away, focusing instead on trying to comfort her. "You'll get used to it here. It's not so bad."

She turned to face him. "I don't want to get used to it. I want to go home."

Simon sighed. "Come on, let's go see what the others are getting up to."

…

Clary caught them in one of the many halls, looking around to see where everyone had gone.

"Hey, Izzy wants to go get some lunch. Taki's," she called as she approached them.

"Cool, I'm down," Simon agreed.

"What about you, Dru?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? Unless you guys are comfortable leaving me here on my own," she replied, and Clary detected a hint of irritation in her tone. She supposed it wasn't entirely unwarranted. She shifted awkwardly, remembering her conversation with Jace.

"It would probably be best if you came with us," Clary admitted sheepishly.

Drusilla laughed humorlessly. "I thought so."

"You'll like it at Taki's," Simon assured. "The food is awesome. Although, I miss seeing Kaelie. It's not really the same without her."

Clary nodded silently in agreement. After the humiliation that Kaelie and all of the Seelie Court had suffered at the hands of the Clave, the Fair Folk had withdrawn into their corners, so to speak, Kaelie included.

Simon, Clary, and Drusilla met up with Jace and Isabelle at the front door. Jace looked around at everyone in the group in turn, his gaze eventually locking with Drusilla's until she looked away, uncomfortable. Jace narrowed his golden eyes in suspicion before he finally turned his piercing gaze away, focusing instead on Clary.

"Shall we go then?" he asked, and off they went.

…

After going to Taki's, they had all gone their separate ways. Jace and Clary had decided to go see Luke and Jocelyn, while Simon, Izzy, and Drusilla returned to the Institute. Drusilla had spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around until she found the library, where she curled up in an armchair and began to read a particularly large tome about different sorts of plants and herbs and their uses.

It was about eight o' clock at night when Clary and Jace returned. By about eleven, everyone except for Drusilla had gone to their own rooms to sleep. She stayed up for another two hours before she headed toward the 'residential wing' of the Institute.

_Well, _she thought with a smirk as she approached her desired door. _Here we go__._

…

Isabelle scrunched her face up and tried turn her head away in response to the tickling sensation of hair brushing her cheek. This caused something sharp and cold to bite into the skin of her throat, and her eyes flew open in shock. She could feel someone sitting on top of her, pinning her down, and there was a blade pressed to her throat. A bead of blood trickled down the side of her neck from where the knife had nicked her.

"Don't. Move. A muscle," her captor hissed. "If you so much as twitch, you'll be dead before you can blink."

Isabelle couldn't have seen her own hand five inches from her face in the pitch darkness of her bedroom, but she knew there was only one person it could be.

Drusilla.

* * *

**I decided to upload two chapters, to try and get the plot moving along. This one's shorter and it jumps around between POV a lot but I really didn't think it would be necessary to describe the characters' every thought from six in the morning to midnight. The main point was the last little scene.**

**Fun Fact: I realized upon re-reading these chapters that I seem to have subconsciously based Drusilla off of a friend of mine. Oops. XD Oh well, I doubt she'd mind all that much; she's a Slytherin.**

**Oh and don't worry; I haven't forgotten that Clary lives with her mom and Luke.**


	6. Downhill

Magnus looked around his dark apartment as he gently closed the door behind him. _Still not home yet then, _he thought, wondering where Alec had been all day. The shadowhunter had been quiet since his attempted proposal; he had spent little time with Magnus in the past couple of days and he hadn't tried to propose again. Magnus was starting to worry that maybe he had scared the little demon hunter away.

He sighed and opened the door to his bedroom, intending to just flop down onto his nice, warm bed and wait for his lover to return. Upon seeing the state of his room, the warlock tried unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp and froze in place. He stood like a statue in the doorway, hardly daring to breathe, lest the motion somehow shatter the image before him. He gazed around the small room in wonder.

Someone, namely Alec, had gathered every single candle Magnus owned (which was quite a few) and placed them all around the room. Their dancing flames were the only source of light in the bedroom, and with all the colorful and sparkly décor, the space had taken on an almost ethereal quality. Perched on the edge of Magnus' massive bed—which he had recently re-outfitted with an electric-blue comforter—was, quite possibly, the most magnificent being the warlock had ever had the pleasure of beholding, aside from himself, of course.

Alec was dressed in Magnus' favorite outfit. It consisted of a dark blue button-up that was almost the precise color of Alec's eyes and a pair of simple, but well-fitted, black jeans. It also happened to be the only outfit the shadowhunter had ever allowed Magnus to pick out for him. Upon seeing the warlock, Alec grinned, somewhat shyly, and held out a hand to Magnus.

The warlock placed his hand, the one still adorned with Alec's family ring, into the warm grasp of his lover. The shadowhunter promptly pulled Magnus down to sit next to him on the bed.

"So," Alec began, with a slightly sarcastic tone. "Please, huh?"

Magnus' grinned as well, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "It's always polite to say please," he said, the way a mother might correct her child.

"Please?" Alec said again, only marginally more serious than before, but enough that Magnus understood what he was asking.

"Of course," the warlock replied. "How could I say no to that pretty face?"

Magnus placed a gentle kiss on Alec's lips, and the pair fell back onto the bed, content to exist in their own little bubble for as long as they could.

**...**

Clary slowly opened her eyes to be greeted by the sight of her room at the Institute. It was a sight that never failed to make her smile. After copious amounts of begging and pleading, she had finally convinced her mom to let her stay at the Institute on Friday and Saturday nights, on the grounds that she needed to be closer to Simon. The only condition was that she and Jace had to sleep in separate rooms. It was an easy condition to meet, especially since she knew that telling her mom that that particular ship had already sailed would most definitely _not _work out in her favor.

She stood up and stretched, grabbing her sketchbook, a pencil, and a small, shawl-like blanket to throw over her arms before heading to Jace's room to say good morning. She opened the door a crack and peered in to check that he was asleep before she slipped quietly into the room, closing the door behind her.

She gazed down at his sleeping form fondly. She had always loved how innocent and peaceful he looked when he was sleeping. She sat down gently at the edge of his bed, opened her sketchbook to one of the few remaining blank pages, and began to draw.

She watched as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. She knew that he was awake, and she knew that he had probably been awake since she first opened the door. He opened his eyes.

"Good morning," he smiled, reaching out a hand to brush back a lock of her hair.

"Hold on, stay right there," she commanded, and he froze, a perfect statue. He was, without a doubt, the best model she'd ever had.

After a little while, Jace peered around the edge of her sketchbook to see what she was drawing, and he noted with great amusement that she had decided to take a few 'artistic liberties;' in the drawing, he was in the same pose, but rather than wearing a T-shirt and boxer-briefs, as he was in reality, the drawing's only source of modesty was a tactfully placed sheet.

"Interesting," Jace mused with a smirk. Clary blushed but spoke calmly, without a hint of embarrassment.

"Eh," she shrugged. "I've seen better."

"Bite your tongue. That's impossible," he exclaimed in mock offense. Clary was about to reply when Jace's bedroom door burst open, revealing a panicked Simon. She quickly closed the sketchbook, turning her full attention on her _parabatai. _

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Isabelle. She's gone!" he cried.

"What do you mean she's gone?" Jace demanded, sliding quickly out of bed and throwing on some jeans.

"I mean she's not in her room and she's not answering her phone," Simon answered impatiently.

"Did you ask anyone else if they've seen her? Alec? Magnus? Drusilla?" Clary asked.

"Drusilla is gone too, and I called Magnus. He told me Alec went out last night and never came home. Neither of us could get a hold of him or Izzy."

Jace said a word that would have made Jocelyn want to stick a bar of soap in his mouth, and pointed at Clary.

"I told you. Did I not?" Clary looked down, cheeks reddening, but quickly looked back up in defiance.

"This doesn't prove that you were right. Drusilla might have been taken too. Or she might have decided to go home. Anyway, even if it turns out that you were right, it doesn't change the fact that helping her was the right thing to do," Clary stated firmly.

"If I'm right, and you know I am, then what about when she kills Alec and Izzy? Hmm? Will it have been the right thing to do then?"

"Guys-" Simon piped in, but was quickly cut off by Clary.

"Helping people will always be the right thing to do. It's our job. Maybe I made a mistake. I'm only human. But she needed help, and it was our responsibility to give that help to her."

"This is a pretty big mist-" Jace began.

"GUYS! Enough! We don't have time for this. We can argue about who was right and who was wrong later. Right now, we need to focus on finding Izzy and Alec," Simon snapped, glaring at them both in turn.

"You're right," Clary agreed, taking a deep breath. She turned away from Jace and nodded at Simon. "Come on. Let's grab some gear and get moving."

…

They decided to talk to Magnus first.

"Did Alec say where he was going?" Jace asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"No, he didn't. Do you honestly believe that if he had, I wouldn't be there right now?" Magnus replied exasperatedly.

"Shut up, both of you! I have listened to enough of this for one day. Just stop arguing and find them," Simon said, rubbing his temples in frustration. Clary placed a hand on Simon's arm, but he quickly shrugged it off.

"We're trying, Simon, OK?" Clary said, angling her head in an attempt to look him in the eye. She gave up with a sigh and turned her attention to Magnus. "Alright, tell it to me again."

"How many times am I going to have to repeat this? The story isn't going to change," Magnus argued.

"Maybe you'll remember something, some detail you didn't think was important before," Clary countered.

The warlock sighed. "Fine. We were asleep. Alec got a text message from Isabelle, saying that she was in trouble. He left to go help her, and he never came back."

"Did he tell you the address? Did you get a look at the text at all?" Clary asked patiently.

"No," Magnus replied, rather the opposite of patient. "He left without saying where he was going. He seemed pretty upset. I tried to see what the message said. I thought maybe I could help him, but he left before I could even get a word in edgewise."

"Is there anything else you can remember? Any detail, even one that seems insignificant, could really help here."

"No, for the last time, I don't—" Magnus began, cutting himself off. "Wait. He thought the number was strange."

"What?" Clary asked in surprise.

"He said the text wasn't sent from Isabelle's phone. It was a different number."

"So Isabelle was with someone else."

"Maybe," Magnus said, seemingly lost in thought.

"Did he tell you the number?" Jace demanded. Magnus shook his head.

"I can't remember it," Magnus sighed. Jace looked like he was about to strangle him, but Simon stepped in between them, passing his phone to the warlock.

"Was this the number?" Simon asked imperatively.

Magnus looked thoughtful for a moment and handed the phone back. "Yes. That's it."

Simon nodded as if that was the answer he had been expecting.

"So," Clary inquired, "who was it?"

"Drusilla," Simon replied. There was a moment of tense silence before Jace aimed a pointed look at Clary. He looked as though he was about to speak when Simon cut him off.

"Don't even start," he snapped. "Not a word, from either of you."

…

Magnus stood before the street-facing window of his apartment and watched as the trio of shadowhunters walked down the street, headed toward God-only-knew-where. Chairman Meow hopped up onto the sill and purred as he rubbed his head against Magnus' thigh, glancing up at the warlock with obvious concern every few seconds.

"It's alright Chairman," he reassured, twirling Alec's ring around his finger absentmindedly. "He'll come back to us. He has to."

* * *

**Hello! I'm alive! I know it's been a little while, and for that I am _so _sorry. Believe me, I would have much rather been doing this, but it would seem that I chose a most unfortunate time to start writing this story. Just a few days after I began posting, life decided to hit me like a tidal wave, and I've never been a good surfer. Couple that with a crippling case of writer's block and you have the perfect recipe for letting down all the people that are waiting to read your stuff. ****Anywho, things have calmed down now and I should (hopefully) be able to update more frequently. **

**So, I have a problem. I had an idea of where I wanted this story to go, and it was actually going to end up being quite long, but I'm starting to get this nagging feeling that the plot I originally lined up for this just isn't all that great. This leaves me with two options: I can either switch gears and go a new direction, or I can power through it and just hope you guys like the plot. Part of me is saying, "Stop trying to please everybody. It's impossible. Just write what you feel you need to write and quit worrying about what everyone is going to think." The other part of me is saying, "If I keep writing this the way I originally intended for it to go, it's going to suck and everyone will be disappointed." **

**Here's my solution. Tell me how you think this story is going to go. Make a prediction. Maybe I'll be inspired. Maybe you guys will predict the plot correctly and I'll feel like I can keep going forward with it. Either way, it can't hurt. If you don't have a prediction, just tell me if you like the way it's going now. **

**Whatever happens, I will not give up on this story. It drives me crazy when people do that. My promise to you is that I _will _write this story out, beginning to end, no matter what bumps come along in the road. Don't give up on me just yet.**

**Stay tuned.**

**-Elaina Fairchild**


	7. Trapped

"Jace? Jace, where are you going?" Clary asked, growing increasingly worried.

"I don't know, OK? I need to do _something_. Anything. I can't just sit around, waiting for more information," Jace replied, clearly agitated.

"Well, until we get more information, there really isn't much we can do," Simon pointed out coldly. Clary could tell that he was just as upset, but was trying to remain calm so that he could focus. His brow was furrowed in the way that told her he wasn't really listening to them; he was trying to think.

Clary heard a sound pinging sound that reminded her oddly of a cash register, and watched as Jace pulled out his phone. He had received a text, and from the look on his face, it didn't contain any good news.

"Jace?" Clary asked, hesitant of his rapidly darkening mood. "Jace, who is that from?"

He didn't answer.

"Jace?" she tried again. "Who just texted you? What does it say?"

"It's Alec," he said finally, and began walking away, still absorbed in the screen of his phone.

"Jace!" Clary called, struggling to catch up to him. "Jace, this is a bad idea."

"I don't care."

"Jace! You know this is a trap! This is so obviously a trap, it's almost insulting."

"I don't care!" he called back to her, quickening his pace. Clary ran to catch up with him, coming to a halt in front of him. He tried to step around her, and she moved to block him.

"Move, Clary," he growled.

"No," she replied firmly. He tried again to step around her, and again she blocked him.

"Dammit Clarissa! Get out of the way. I'll move you myself, if I have to."

Clary rolled her eyes and snatched the phone out of his hands. The moment she looked away, he used her temporary distraction to slip around her, and continued on his way.

"Where do you think you're going?" she called out to him. He didn't reply. She glanced down at the screen just as Simon caught up to her.

"Oh, by the Angel," she moaned as she realized where Jace was headed.

"What? What's going on?" Simon asked, sounding slightly panicked and out of breath.

She was silent as she handed the phone to him. His eyes widened. Alec had texted him the address of Clary's old brownstone.

"Come on. Let's go catch up to him," she sighed, shaking her head as dread began to settle in her stomach like a stone.

…

Simon, Jace, and Clary stood in the foyer of Clary's old apartment. Because Alec had been hurt, they hadn't stuck around long enough after their battle with Abbadon to assess the damage they had done. Seeing the scorch marks on the walls and the broken skylight brought forth a wave of memories, and the trio glanced around the room with wide eyes, feeling as though they had been transported back a thousand years in time.

The doors to two of the apartments were closed, and Clary knew that if she tried to open them, she would find them to be locked. Only one door stood open: the door to the apartment that had once housed a hedge-witch known as Madame Dorothea.

The door was only slightly ajar, and from what Clary could see, it had been cleared of all of Madame Dorothea's belongings. She stepped cautiously toward the door and felt a hand come down on her shoulder. Clary startled and turned to see that it was Jace. He shook his head and stepped in front of her, gently pushing the door open. _Always the hero, _she thought facetiously, but a small, slightly-guilty part of her was glad that he was going in first.

The door opened soundlessly, though Clary had thought it would creak, seeing as it wouldn't have been opened in a long time. It was a seemingly insignificant detail, but one that nonetheless made her skin tingle with fear.

"Ah, there you are! You got my text, then? Wonderful! The gang's all here," Drusilla crooned with a wicked grin. Clary gazed around the room, taking in the sight of the apartment.

The room was empty except for one remaining piece of Madame Dorothea's old furniture: a pink armchair that had once been overstuffed, but had since fallen a little flat with age. Alec and Isabelle stood on the opposite side of the room, hand in hand. Clary was reminded for a moment of the story of Hansel and Gretel, but she quickly shook the thought away.

Simon was staring at Isabelle, mouthing something quietly to her, but she wasn't responding. In fact, neither Isabelle nor Alec looked as though they could see or hear anything happening in the room. Their stares were blank, lifeless. Clary was only comforted by the sight of their chests rising and falling. They were breathing; they were alive.

Jace stepped up to the pair and waved his hand in front of their faces. There was no response from either of them. Simon joined Jace in his examination of Alec and Izzy, and Clary stepped around the pink armchair, wondering who was sitting in it. She gasped in horror.

"Oh, dear," Drusilla said disappointedly, staring down at the mummified being currently seated in the armchair. "Yes, gruesome, isn't it? Come dear, you don't want to look at that old thing."

Drusilla grabbed Clary firmly by the arm and dragged her away from the armchair, over to where Jace, Alec, Simon, and Isabelle stood.

"Come, come," she said to Clary with a giggle. "The real show is over here."

Suddenly, there was a bang as the door to the apartment flew open behind them and slammed into the wall. Clary, Jace, and Simon turned in the direction of the noise and saw Magnus, standing in the doorway and looking furious.

"Hooray!" Drusilla said delightedly. "So glad you could make it, Mr. Bane. Now we can get started. Magnus darling, could you conjure up some chairs for us? You three might want to get comfortable." She gestured at him, Simon, and Clary.

Magnus fumed, looking mutinous, and Clary gave a small shake of her head, as if to say, _Just do what she asks. _With an irritated flick of his wrist, Magnus conjured up three folding chairs.

"Wonderful, dear. Take your seats now, please. Now, who shall I start with? Oh yes, I know!" Drusilla laughed.

She walked over to Jace and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. Clary felt a sudden, fierce panic flash through her, and she rose from her seat to step toward the golden-haired boy.

"Ah, ah, ah. Naughty, naughty," Drusilla said, waving her finger at Clary with a grin. "Sit down. Now."

Clary reluctantly returned to her seat, her eyes never leaving Jace's.

"Now," Drusilla said, dragging her gaze lazily down Jace's form. "Where was that scar, again?"

She removed her hand from Jace's face and ripped open his shirt, revealing the scar where Lilith's rune had once been, and where Clary had stabbed him with Glorious. Clary's eyes grew impossibly wider, and she silently pleaded with Jace to fight back. He flicked his gaze downward for a second before returning it to her. She looked to where he had gestured with his eyes and saw that he was slowly extracting a knife from his belt. Clary wasn't the only one who noticed.

Drusilla flicked her wrist impatiently, and before anyone could register what was happening, Alec had moved to stand behind Jace. He had one arm wrapped around Jace's chest, and was pressing a sharp-looking silver dagger to his _parabatai's _throat.

"Are you going to behave, Jace, darling? Or am I going to have to kill you? Our little game just wouldn't be the same without you, you know," Drusilla pouted, like a child about to lose their favorite toy.

Jace swallowed, causing the knife to dig further into his throat, and blood began to bead up onto the blade. He stilled, no longer attempting to pull out the knife.

"Good boy," she crooned. "Now, hand it over."

Jace closed his eyes and grimaced as he pulled the knife out of his belt and handed it over to Drusilla. She was grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

"Perfect," she cried, slicing open the scar on Jace's chest. He flinched a little, but was quiet.

She used Jace's knife to prick her index finger before pressing the bleeding finger into his wound. From where Clary was sitting, she could see that Drusilla's blood was darkly tinted, as though it had been infected with shadows. She tried to stand up once more, but Magnus pulled her down. She glared down at the warlock and thought for a moment that he looked to be on the verge of tears. She looked back to Jace.

"Jace!" Clary cried out, struggling against Magnus' hold. She turned her glare on Magnus again. "Let me go!"

"I can't," he said calmly. "She'll hurt Alec."

"Yes, that's right Mr. Bane," Drusilla agreed, before turning her triumphant gaze back to Clary. "You'd be wise to sit down, little girl. I can hurt Jace now too, just as easily."

Clary looked back at Jace, who now stood with the same blank expression on his face as Alec and Isabelle. She pulled her gaze away from him, sickened by the lack of life in his eyes. She glared at Drusilla, noting with fascination that despite the girl's cruel, unforgiving expression, there were tears running down her face. Drusilla noticed her noticing.

"Oh, damn this body," Drusilla said angrily, wiping away the tears in frustration. "I can make her move however I want her to. I can make her say whatever I need her to say, but she just won't stop crying. I should have picked a stronger host. But then, I have Isabelle now, don't I?"

Simon, who had been silently looking on in horror the whole time, suddenly stood from his seat as Drusilla stepped closer to where Isabelle still stood, unmoving, like a statue.

"What do you think, Clarissa?" Drusilla asked with a smile. "Do you like my little collection of puppets? With each new addition I grow stronger. I daresay I might even be able to revive my own body soon. Until then, I suppose I'll have to be content with borrowing their bodies. Oh, what fun we're going to have!"

Clary grabbed at Simon's arm as he tried to move towards Drusilla, but he quickly ripped it free from her grasp.

"Oh sit down, you fool. Are you trying to get your girlfriend killed?" Drusilla sneered.

Simon continued to stand for a few moments before he reluctantly flopped back down into his seat, glaring at Drusilla with a look that might've made anyone else drop dead with fear.

"Who are you?" he growled demandingly.

"Oh?" Drusilla asked, lifting one elegant eyebrow and smiling knowingly at Clary. "You know who I am, don't you dear? Well, go on then. Tell him."

Clary gritted her teeth and looked straight at Drusilla.

"Lilith."

* * *

**Dun, dun, duuuuuun! XD Oh no! What's going to happen? She captured three of our favorite heroes! **

**I feel like, excluding certain parts of CoFA and CoLS, it's usually Clary, Simon, and Magnus getting captured. I think it's time for the big, strong shadowhunters to be rescued. This time, my three favorite "damsels" are going to be the ones to save the day.**

**So, in this fic, it's obvious that I've pretty much stuck to canon. Most of that is because it's my first time writing and actually posting one of these; I'm sticking to what I know. But I have to branch out eventually, right? Once this story is complete, I'm planning to write another, and maybe that one will be a bit less canon. Or maybe it'll be a sequel to this story, depending on how I decide to end it. Maybe it'll be based off of a different series entirely. I don't know yet. If there's something you'd really like me to write, send some suggestions. Your reviews really do inspire me. **

**Anyway, I was re-reading CoB, and I got to the part where Simon gets turned into a rat, and I was particularly inspired by the short little bit where Clary is holding Simon to her chest, and Jace says that it's probably the closest he's ever gotten to second base. I started thinking, what if Jace got turned into something particularly adorable at one of Magnus' parties, like a kitten or a rabbit? And what if Clary played a hand in it, just to mess with him? I think there's potential there for a really cute, fluffy Clace story. I can just imagine Clary cooing over little kitten-Jace and him being all grumpy about being coddled, but secretly loving it at the same time. XD Anywho, is it something I should explore in writing? It would probably just be a one-shot, but it might be a nice break from all the angst and doom of this story. (Really, things are only going to continue to get worse from here.)**

**Keep reading. **

**-Elaina Fairchild**

**(Side Note/Post Script: FFnet says the British spelling of 'favourite' is correct, and not the American spelling. What's up with that?)**


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